Seasons of Mystery
by Orion nine
Summary: Set after the events of Vertigo's 2008 House of Mystery series, and before the house's appearance in Justice League Dark, this story attempts to bridge the gap between those two.
1. Chapter 1

**Seasons of Mystery**

Chapter 1.

Somewhere there is a land beyond human understanding… a place we glimpse only in our dreams. It is a world of the weird and mysterious.

And in this place of imagination, where things and ideas mingle with secrets and lies, there is a house; an old, quasi-Victorian mansion called The House of Mystery.

Do you dare enter?

As its name would imply, The House of Mystery is a repository for all things odd, unusual, and unexplained and it is looked after by a man as enigmatic as the house itself; his name is Cain.

Cain had always considered himself to be the one and only caretaker of The House of Mystery. And it is true that it was he and he alone that had been commissioned with that specific duty. He even had a letter to prove it and everything. But over the years and decades and centuries there had been certain previsions made and certain circumstances that had left the house in the hands of others. As Cain, a tall, thin man with pointy brown hair and beard, walked down one of the house's many hallways, he passed by portraits of these other caretakers.

There was Elvira, Mistress of The Dark, a leggy brunette with big hair and even bigger… talent for hosting horror stories. She had found her way into The House of Mystery once while Cain was away and the house had been more than happy to have her company, even if it was only briefly.

There was Fig Keele, a young, blonde woman who co-ran the house along with Cain when it was briefly a bar & grill, and way station between worlds. The house would always have a soft spot for Fig, because she took a piece of its heart with her when she left, in a manner of speaking.

Then there was Lotus Blossom Mackenzie, who resurrected the house after it had been blown up by some jerk who shall remain nameless. She was a feisty chick who, in her short time in charge, managed to make many changes to the house and those closest to it including turning Cain's brother, Abel's, golden gargoyle, Goldie, into a human being named Gigi. The House had loved Lotus Blossom too in its way.

In fact, the house loved all of its caretakers. All except Cain.

The portraits on the wall were keepsakes that the house had held onto to remind itself that it had known more than just mysteries and horror over its long existence, it had also known friends.

Cain looked at these reminders as he walked along the hall and saw them as a personal affront. He growled to himself. It's hard to say what he was thinking or feeling exactly, because Cain, like the stories he collects and tells, is a bit of a mystery himself. On the one hand, he did care about the house and its well being and he was at least a little jealous of it's past relationships with these other people. On the other hand, Cain almost never showed the house, or anyone else for that matter, any affection or actual care, so it's no wonder the house felt neglected by him.

Still, now was not the time for thoughts or feelings. Now was the time for chilling tales of mystery. Cain adjusted the small round glasses on his face as he reached the end of the hallway, which led to a second story mezzanine overlooking the house's main foyer. Gathered below him, Cain could see a large congregation made up of all manner of people and even some things that could not really be counted as people. There were men in top hats, women in loin clothes, a small group of nuns near the back, a little boy and girl who appeared to have brought their dog, a large yeti-like creature, a space man, and a vampire, just to name a few. There were also some disgruntled looking baroque era musicians here and there who seemed to keep having their wigs knocked off by the bustling crowd.

"Ladies and gentlemen! Boils and ghouls!" shouted Cain to his audience.

Everyone quickly got quiet and turned their attention to the man above them who was wearing a loud pink and white floral shirt with large lapels, a green vest covered in gold brocade, pin striped bell bottom pants, and black leather boots with toes as pointy as his horn-like hair. The whole ensemble came together to create the impression of a grotesque, yet groovy, carnival barker.

"Welcome once again to The House of Mystery! I am Cain! Your able caretaker and host for the evening. Tonight I have a collection of creepy concoctions that will both chill you and thrill you and if all goes right maybe even kill you. So, if you'll all adjourn with me to the theater room we'll get this party started, as they say."

The crowed eagerly moved to the left, heading through an archway, through a parlor, and down a short hallway that had two large wooden doors at the end which were propped open. Passing through the doors the audience entered into a large auditorium that smelled old and rich with dust. Everyone quickly filed into the rows of upholstered theater seats and began sitting down. In a matter of moments almost all of the one hundred and thirteen seats were full. As soon as everyone had gotten comfortable, except for one old witch who was standing up, arguing with a man she claimed spilled diet soda on her shawl, the lights suddenly went off and a loud shutter sound could be heard as a spot light hit the black velvet curtains on the stage at the front of the room.

Cain stepped out from behind the curtains wearing a completely different, yet equally snazzy/bizarre outfit. A blue and gray zigzag striped suit with bright orange tie and straw boater hat.

"You've all heard the expression 'time heals all wounds' I trust?" he said, and even though he had no microphone, his smooth, deep voice could be heard quite loudly and clearly even in the back row of the theater.

"Well, try and tell that to the man in my first tale. It's a magical misadventure I call… Splitting Up the Act!"

Cain bowed and walked off stage as the curtains parted and what followed for the next thirty minutes was a somewhat mediocre, yet watchable story about a washed up stage magician who decides to betray his fellow performers by publicly exposing famous magic tricks. In the just desserts ending he is actually sawed in half in front of an audience of his peers who applaud with ghoulish glee.

Cain's audience, however, was less taken with the predictable tale and only clapped politely as the curtains closed.

"For my next putrid presentation," Cain announced, walking back on stage. "I'm going to be taking you to ancient Rome! And please ladies and gentlemen, as you enjoy this next offering, my brother Abel will be passing around a collections plate. If you like what you see, please give generously so that The House of Mystery can continue bringing you such eerie entertainment."

There was a murmur amongst the audience, then silence. Cain adjusted his glasses that had slipped down his nose. He coughed.

"Yes, um… Now! Let us proceed. I call this next one… Bewerewolf the Ides of March."

As the increasingly malcontent audience yawned their way through Cain's next story, which was basically just Julius Caesar with werewolves, A chubby man in a dark, three piece suite whose hair and beard almost exactly matched his brother's, only black instead of brown, timidly passed a wicker basket up and down each aisle.

"… but you can't be alive," the man in the toga stammered. "We stabbed you!"

"And had the knives been made of silver I would be dead," said the other man in the toga. This one had yellow eyes and fangs.

"For you see… I'm a werewolf!" he growled as he lunged at the man, claws outstretched, and the curtains closed again.

"Didn't see that one coming," shouted a man in the audience.

"I certainly wouldn't have guessed it from the title," shouted a woman.

The audience began to laugh.

Cain stormed onstage looking like he was about ready to explode.

"Who said that!" he yelled at his audience. "Who dares heckle me?!"

In the back corner of the room, Abel, holding an empty basket, looked around nervously.

"You people think you can do better? You think this stuff is easy to come up with?"

The crowd was silent.

"Now, for my third story of the evening," said Cain, regaining his composure. "I take you to the home of five year old Mary Franklin who has just received a most unusual doll for her birthday…"

There was a collective groan from the entire audience.

"That's it! Get out!" Cain roared. His demeanor changing from affable storyteller to complete maniac at the drop of a hat once more.

The audience was happy to oblige. They all began standing up as the house lights suddenly came on and started shuffling out of the auditorium.

"Wait a minute," sputtered Cain, jumping off the stage and chasing after the crowd.

Before he could get too far, though, the old witch from earlier, now accompanied by two other witches: one chubby, and middle aged, the other young, blonde, and beautiful stopped him in his tracks.

"Hehehe, what was that tripe?" the old crone cackled.

Cain opened his mouth to cuss her out.

"Seriously, dear, you must get some fresher material," said the chubby one.

"Who do you think-" Cain tried.

"It really was the pits, Cain," said the blonde witch in a breathy, Marilyn Monroe type voice. She put her well manicured hand on Cain's shoulder. "I mean, you tried, but it just fell flat, ya dig? What happened to you? You used to be the best."

"I'm gonna dig!" Cain yelled. "Three graves for you three pot-stirring pin-heads if you don't stop criticizing me and get the hell out of my house!"

With a shrug and a laugh from each, the three witches disappeared in a puff of colored smoke. Cain brushed through the cloud with a wave of his hand and continued after his departing guests who were already pouring out the front doors of the house.

"Come back!" Cain called after them from the doorway, his temper giving way to desperation now.

"I've got more stories to tell! Better stories! I got one about a cursed bird statue that ruins the lives of all who come in contact with it. I got one about a Japanese pop star with schizophrenia! GET BACK HERE!"

No one even looked back.

Quietly, Abel joined his brother in the doorway.

Cain glanced at him, thought for a moment, and then quickly pulled a knife out of his coat pocket and stabbed Abel right in the gut. Abel grabbed the knife's hilt, groaned, and sank to the floor, dead.

"Hey," Cain called to the crowd, who had all but completely vanished into the foggy cemetery of the house's front yard.

"I just murdered somebody in cold blood. And in about one minute he's going to come back to life. How? Who knows? It's a mystery. Come back! Come baaack!"

They did not.

"Aw, screw it," Cain said quietly to himself. He turned, stepped over his brother's body, and went into his house, shutting the doors behind him.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2.

Gigi walked into the parlor where Cain was brooding in a red leather arm chair. She was young and lithe with short blonde hair and she wore, as always, an expression of blissful delirium on her innocent face. In her hands she held a tray with a decanter of brandy and a snifter on it.

"Here you are, Cain. I know alcohol always cheers you up when you're in one of your moods," she said, placing the tray on the end table beside him.

When she had been a baby gargoyle and gone by the name Goldie, Gigi had hated Cain for his terrible treatment of her friend, Abel. Since she had become a human being her feelings towards him had not changed, but she had gotten better at hiding them and had become very good at passive aggressively sticking it to him by doing things such as encouraging his minor alcoholism.

"Get that out of here, you nitwit!" Cain shouted.

Gigi just smiled and walked over to a phonograph on a nearby table.

"I wish I had had a chance to come to your story telling tonight, Cain," she said, putting the needle on the record. "But I was too busy sewing myself this new dress. Do you like it?"

She did a little twirl allowing the long poofy dress she was wearing to spread out like butterfly wings.

Cain didn't even have to look over at her to know that she was wearing something loud and ridiculous made from fabric that would make Mrs. Frizzle feel silly.

As a jazzy tune started to emanate from the phonograph's horn, Gigi began to dance. Not with any particular rhythm, but with grace none the less.

_"Sunday is gloomy,_  
_My hours are slumberless_  
_Dearest the shadows_  
_I live with are numberless._"

As much as he tried, Cain couldn't resist looking over at the display going on right next to him. With equal parts seething rage and morbid curiosity he watched as Gigi threw herself about, doing at least three different dances at once; all inappropriate for this music.

_"Little white flowers_  
_Will never awaken you_  
_Not where the black coach of_  
_Sorrow has taken you."_

"I'm gonna kill her this time, I swear it," Cain said under his breath.

Luckily, at that moment, Abel walked into the room with an armful of envelopes.

_"Angels have no thought_  
_Of ever returning you_  
_Would they be angry_  
_If I thought of joining you?"_

"Would you tell your demented gargoyle girl to turn that off and go away?" Cain yelled at his brother.

"Goldie," said Abel. "I m-m-mean, Gigi, would you please go sweep up in the theater room, d-d-dear?"

Gigi shut off the music and began to stroll out of the room with a smile on her face.

"Of course," she said as she passed Abel.

"T-t-thank you," he said. "And t-t-that's a beautiful d-d-dress."

Gigi blushed. Then she noticed the blood stains on Abel's suit and gave Cain a nasty look before exiting.

"Leave it to her to ruin a good song," said Cain and then to Abel he added, "Where have you been anyway, you meager-minded milksop?"

"When I c-c-came to outside, I figured I m-m-might as well check the mail f-f-for you."

He dumped the collection of letters he was carrying onto a coffee table in front of him and took a seat on the couch next to it.

"There was a l-l-lot."

"Yeah," said Cain. "I haven't even bothered getting the mail lately since it's mostly just hate mail and death threats and people criticizing my stories." He sighed. "Plus, Mel the mailbox monster and I aren't speaking at the moment."

"I s-s-see," said Abel with a frown.

He didn't like seeing his brother (or anyone else for that matter) upset and was unsure of what he could do to help.

The two brothers sat in silence for a while when all of a sudden it was broken by the sound of a man's footsteps coming down the stairs in the hall. The footsteps reached the bottom of the stairs and then headed in the direction of the parlor. Abel began to get nervous as he realized there wasn't supposed to be any other men in the house at the time besides him and his brother. He looked to Cain who looked indifferent as usual.

Out of the shadows of the hallway came a pale young man with dark hair. He wore a long tweed overcoat, black leather gloves, and a dark gray homburg hat that was slightly too big for him. His ears were also too big for him and his face was gaunt with dark eyes that looked haunted, but friendly. He couldn't have been more than twenty, yet he gave the impression of a much older person.

"W-w-who are you?" asked Abel, frightened.

"Oh yeah, you two haven't met, have you? This is Mr. Vincent Caldwell," explained Cain. "He's been boarding here for the last week or so. Mr. Caldwell, this is my poor excuse for a brother, Abel."

"You never t-t-told me you had started taking boarders again," said Abel.

"I don't tell you lots of things," said Cain.

"But I'm the keeper of secrets," said Abel, slightly hurt. "And I'm your brother. You s-s-should tell me… stuff."

Cain rolled his eyes.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Abel," said Vincent Caldwell in an upper class British accent. He did not offer his hand to shake, or even step further into the room.

"Likewise," said Abel. "I live in The House of Secrets just across the cemetery-"

"No one cares, fat face," said Cain. "Was there something you needed Mr. Caldwell?"

"Yes, Mr. Cain, I have come to inform you that I must remain at your establishment indefinitely due to certain… circumstances."

"No problem at all, Mr. Caldwell," said Cain as charming as could be. "And if there's anything you require while you're staying here: any extra towels, or blankets, please feel free to let me or my brother know and we'll have the housekeeper take care of it for you."

"Housekeeper?" asked Abel.

"Gigi," said Cain.

"Gigi? Has she met him too already? Nobody tells me anything anymore."

"You are a most gracious host, Mr. Cain," said Vincent. "Now I'm afraid I have some urgent business to attend to and will be gone for most of the night. Good evening to both of you gentlemen."

With no tip of his hat, or even an awkward wave goodbye, he quietly backed out of the room.

The brothers waited until they heard the front door shut to start talking again.

"What's his story?" asked Abel. "How come I haven't seen him until now?"

"I don't know what his story is," said Cain. "He won't tell me. In fact he hardly talks at all and barely ever leaves his room. So, whatever his story is, I have a hunch it's full of mystery and intrigue."

Cain had a glint in his eye.

"Is t-t-that why you're being so n-n-nice to him, so he'll tell you his s-s-story? You want to a-a-add it to your collection of m-m-mysteries, don't you?"

"As a matter of fact I do," said Cain, shamelessly. "It is my duty to collect, keep, and share mysteries, isn't it? And if at some point he voluntarily wants to tell me his story then I shall collect, keep, and share_ it_. Providing it's good enough of course. I could certainly use the new material that's for sure. As far as being nice to him goes, though, well, that's just being a good host. You should know that, dear brother. Oh wait, that's right, you don't know anything about that because no one ever wants to come to _your_ house."

Abel hung his head as Cain stood up to leave the room. Suddenly, though, something on the table caught his eye and he stopped.

"What is this?" he said, to no one in particular.

He reached down amongst the pile of mail and picked up one envelope that had nothing written on it except the letter C.

"No stamp, no return address," he said. "Hmm."

Abel looked on as his brother opened the mysterious envelope and read the letter that was inside out loud.

_Dear Cain,_

_I'm on my way._

_Sincerely,_  
_M_

"Who is M?" asked Abel.

"I'm sure I have no idea," said Cain, but then he thought a moment.

"Hmm. M for mystery."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3.

The next morning found Cain in a much better mood. Last nights disaster was still in the back of his mind, but for now he was choosing to forget about it as he sat in the dining room of The House of Mystery in his dressing gown eating eggs Florentine.

Gigi soon came out of the kitchen and joined him holding two plates of food on a tray. One for herself and one for Abel, who coincidentally, happened to be entering the dining room himself at that very minute.

He was dressed in a black suit and bolo tie, with a pink carnation in the lapel of his jacket. He and Gigi exchanged a smile.

"G-g-good morning, Gigi. G-g-good morning, brother," he said. "I've brought in your newsp-p-paper and there was also an e-e-envelope with it too."

He took a seat at the table and slid the papers over to Cain.

"Who are you, Hermes, all of a sudden? I swear if this is in any way something bad I'm liable to shoot the messenger." said Cain, opening the envelope, which was totally blank this time.

Gigi put a plate down in front of Abel and then took a seat herself.

"I'll be there soon. M," Cain read out loud.

"Bah, more nonsense," he said, and took a sip of his morning coffee.

"Don't you th-th-think there may be something odd about these n-n-notes?" asked Abel.

"I mean, how do they keep g-g-getting here? There's no address or p-p-postage on them and they keep showing up at the house. First in the m-m-mailbox and now on the front porch. The only person who c-c-could be leaving them is this mysterious sender, eh-eh-em."

Cain gave his brother a look of unabashed loathing.

"Do shut up. Just… please do."

"Maybe M stands for monster and it's some _thing_ that's going to come and kill you and eat your bones!" Gigi said with glee.

Cain ignored her entirely and spoke to Abel.

"I don't particularly care who or what M is, just as long as this doesn't wind up being an incredible waste of my time. M had better make good on their promise and actually show up. Odds are they won't."

"If they don't show up, though, wouldn't that make this an unsolved mystery? I'd think you'd like that," said Gigi, taking a bite of toast.

"There is a big difference between a mystery and a story that goes nowhere, my dear. When you're a big gargoyle girl maybe you'll understand that," said Cain.

Gigi made a face at him.

"Still, I think it's w-w-weird. I mean if they can d-d-deliver the letters to the house, then w-w-why does it say they'll b-b-be here soon?

"Maybe someone else is delivering them here for them. Like a bird, or a monkey, or something. Like in that book," said Gigi.

"Hmm," said Abel.

Suddenly there was a heavy knock at the front door.

"I'll get it," said Cain, standing up and tossing his napkin on the table. "I need a break from conversing with you two geniuses."

When Cain finally got to the door and opened it there was nobody there. There was, however, a large rectangular crate about six feet tall standing on the porch.

Cain stepped outside and looked at the crate. He walked around it twice, but did not see any kind of shipping label, note, or in fact any writing whatsoever beyond "This end up".

Abel and Gigi joined him outside.

"What's th-th-that?" asked Abel.

"It's the country of Finland on a nice, sunny, Saturday afternoon in April," said Cain. "Help me get it inside."

With much cursing and grunting, the two brothers brought the large box into the house and set it upright in the middle of the front hall. Gigi appeared and handed Abel a crowbar, which Cain quickly grabbed out of his hand.

"This is almost like C-C-Christmas," said Abel. "Except that our mysterious 'Santa' might actually be a sinister crazy person and this package might contain something d-d-dangerous."

"It is just like Christmas," agreed Gigi.

Cain began to prey out the sixteen nails that held the front of the crate on very slowly in order to build anticipation, and then he let it fall to the floor dramatically as the packing peanuts inside spilled out all over the hall. All three people looked inside to see… a mannequin.

A female mannequin to be exact. She was thin and attractive with Asian facial features, straight, dark brown hair, and very expensive looking designer clothes on.

"What's that?" asked Gigi.

"It's a m-m-mannequin," said Abel. "It's like a statue that stores use to show off the clothes they're s-s-selling."

"Well, why is it here? This isn't a store?" said Gigi.

Cain gave her a look, but then realized that was actually a fair question.

"Why indeed," he said.

"Look at th-th-this," said Abel, reaching into the box and pulling something out from behind the figure.

It was a piece of paper with very feminine, cursive handwriting on it. Cain took it and he, along with Abel and Gigi, who were looking over his shoulders, read it. It said,

_Dear Mr. Cain,_

_The mannequin you see before you is very unique and mysterious. Legend has it that she is the embalmed wife of the former owner of the shop where she was first discovered. Another story says that she was built by a man who based her appearance on his dead lover and now that woman's spirit resides within the mannequin. Whatever the case may be, you'll notice how lifelike the figure is and how the eyes in particular seem to look at you as if she were alive. It is said that at night she changes positions or sometimes even locations in whatever store she is in. As a result, she has been passed around to many different retailers, none of whom want to keep her on account of her eerie nature. It seems, however, that no one can bring themselves to destroy her either, myself included, and so I am giving her to you, because it is said that you collect the strange and unusual. Please add her to your collection of mysteries._

_Sincerely,_  
_Anonymous_

_P.S. Her name is Elanna._

Cain laughed a maniacal laugh.

"Now that's the kind of thing I like to get in the mail," he said, and then he enthusiastically caressed the mannequin's face.

"Look at her! Her eyes do look real. And her skin! You can see the pores on her face."

He bent her arm upward and examined her hand.

"Her finger nails have cuticles! How delightfully macabre."

Abel and Gigi looked on with morbid fascination. Abel hadn't seen his brother so happy in a very long time and it made him smile.

"This is a great acquisition. I think I'll put her in the corner of the ballroom, right near the big window so that people can see her from outside," said Cain.

"But what's the truth?" asked Gigi. "I mean, is she actually a dead body, or is she a haunted mannequin, or what?"

"It doesn't matter," said Cain. "I'll tell both versions to different people. It's two stories for the price of one great prop. In fact, I'll probably make up a lot more stories of my own to boot. This lovely lady has so much potential."

"She is b-b-beautifully and creepy," said Abel.

"What a wonderful way to start the day," said Cain with a hearty sigh. Then to Abel he said, "Now, carry Elanna into the ballroom, fungus face. I'm gonna go check the newspaper for more good stories. Maybe there was a mysterious bus crash today, or a kidnapping."

And he strolled happily out of the hall.


End file.
